An Eye for An Eye
by Hilarious Bread
Summary: At the end of a match, the BLU Sniper is assaulted in his nest. The respawn's turned off for the day, and the RED Spy intends on keeping him dead. BLU Spy/BLU Scout/BLU Sniper friendship. T for gore in first chapter, nothing incredibly huge.
1. An Eye for An Eye

Badlands was a generally calm place for the BLU Sniper. During the day a round of fighting would start near around 7:30 and end in a couple hours, depending on how long it took for one of the teams to capture a point. Despite the caution and stress most of his teammates had to utilize on the battlefield, sniping was generally a calmer sort of job; even when his post was spotted and he needed to move. Dying was usually quick and painless, most commonly he was either headshot or blown to smithereens, only to be respawned seconds later. The RED Sniper was keen to keeping him on his toes, yet despite that, they seemed on generally at the same skill levels. The Spy didn't usually go out of his way to kill him unless he really started wracking in kills. Even then, the Sniper always had the Razorback.

Today was one of those good days. Well, actually, the last couple days had been pretty nice. He'd gotten the most kills out of both teams four days in a row already, and now looked right on his way to a fifth. He let a small chuckle escape between his lips as he got a bull's eye on an enemy scout. Right in between the eyes. "Bloody fast, wanka, but not fast enough," He mused more to himself than anything, watching the battlefield half-attentively. The match was nearly over, and he really had no need to get any more kills. He watched through his scope, at the farthest point. Most of his team was crowded around it, excluding Spy and Scout. The two never seemed to stay put for long.

Sniper tapped his lower lip with his fingers, thinking. He almost never moved at all, and yet his two favored chums were all over the place. Each of their demeanors was drastically different, although they still got along generally well. They balanced each other in a way, he supposed.

The Sniper was wrenched from his thoughts by a distinct, blaring voice. The match was over.

"BLU victory! Return to your respective bases- the respawn machines will shut down in five minutes." A woman called over the intercom in a slightly disgusted voice. The sniper snorted.

"Of course." The admin never seemed happy, despite various outcomes, and the sniper had decided that she was just a bitter old hag. The sniper stood, lowering his gun, and way almost immediately was met by a buzzing in his ears. The Razorback hummed irrelatively, and the sniper whipped around, unsheathing his machete. "Ah, bloody spooks. Come to your lungs carved out, wanka?" He hissed, gazing around the cramped space of his nest. The back covering continued to vibrate, sending a shiver up his spine.

A few seconds of silence enveloped the room, sans the buzzing. Suddenly the Sniper's throat prickled with the feel of cold metal, and a hand grasped around his wrist. The spook had perched himself in the wide frame of the window. "Mon chere, I assure you, I'm not ze one zhat's going to 'ave anything carved today." The voice was full of spite, and he recognized the vocal of the RED Spy. Not that he would have expected anyone else. His fist instinct was to jerk away, but that would merely open the opportunity of slitting his throat himself. So, he decided to humor his captor.

"What do you mean by that?" He spat, dropping his weapon as the knife on his flesh pressed a bit harder.

"You will see, mon chere… Patience."

* * *

><p>"Yo, Spook. You seen Snipes?" The BLU Scout ran up behind the team's Spy, a bloody bat slung over his shoulder. As the Spy glanced back, he gave the bat a disapproving grimace before replying.<p>

"No, mon ami. I'm sure 'e's merely returning from 'is post." He muttered, lighting up a cigarette. Scout made sure to cough overdramatically as the smoke began to swirl away from the Spy, who rolled his eyes in return.

"I," he coughed, "don't think," again, "I've seen him," Cough, hack, hack, hack. "All da-"

"Stop zhat. If you'd like, we can go check to see if 'e's still at 'is post," He frowned, half leering at the boy.

"Fine. God." He muttered a bit, crossing his arms across his chest and huffing dramatically. The hissy attitude quickly evaporated as the Scout suddenly had an /amazing/ idea. "Yo, Spook, I've got a deal for ya."

The Spy snorted a bit. The Scout was always making deals with the Spy. It was a bit annoying, but even more so when he bargained something he knew the Spy would want, like the extra daggers he had found on the Red Spy's corpse, or a Hershey bar. How the Scout had figured out that he liked chocolate, the world may never know. "Very well. What is it?"

"I'll race ya to the ladder. You win, you get the pack of M&Ms I found in the pantry, I win, I get to use you watch for the rest of today." His eyes glimmered excitedly. Spy always kept the troublesome teenager away from his gadgets.

"Hm, how about this," The Spy bargained, a small purr coming to his voice at the offering of chocolate. "We both know you're faster than me. Therefore, you should have to run backwards."

Scout snorted, considering for a moment "Wuss! Fine. Don't expect to win, though. I'm the best there is."

Spy smiled a bit. "Naturally."

And they were off.

* * *

><p>The Red Spy suddenly swung his foot under the Sniper's legs, careful to withdraw his knife; causing the man to fall to the floor. He was able to catch himself, but his knees still hit the wooden boards painfully. Before he could stand or even go for his machete, the metal was back at his neck, and Sniper's breath caught in his throat as graceful fingers unbuckled his belt, easily whisking it out of the loops of his pants. "Your hands, mon ami?" It was a question, but it only had one answer. As he brought his hands up behind his back, the bushman mentally kicked himself for not paying more attention to check for spies.<p>

The Spy bound his hands tightly, and released the knife from the Sniper's neck. He let out a grunt of satisfaction, an walked around to face the Sniper, who was sneering at the spook from behind his aviators.

"You know, mon ami, you really made it too easy this time…" The Spy's head tilted ever so slightly, as if in thought.

"Expect to he headshot a couple times next match, bloody Spook." He spat in response.

"Hon hon hon~, but mon chere, this /will/ be your last match." The Spy's look of slight confusion and thoughtfulness melted into a devious smile, and Sniper's blood suddenly felt cold. Or maybe that was the effect of cut circulation in his hands. "'Aven't you wondered why I didn't bother killing you yet?" He knealt down to the Sniper's level. "I'm waiting. Let's just say zhat your friends on BLU will need a new sniper by the end of the day…" The slender man lifted the Sniper's chin with his pointer finger, forcing him to make eye contact from behind his glasses. "Let's 'ave some fun while it lasts, 'owever, no?" And with that he drew the butterfly knife for a second time.

Sniper could feel the butterfly knife run into his flesh, tracing lines over his skin as he clenched his jaw down tightly. The Sniper now knew all too well what the Red Spy had meant. He was literally /carving/ into the sniper. He started along his left forearm, making lines across and vertical, digging the blade into the muscle. Blood seeped out. He felt like screaming in pain as his nerves raged, but all he could manage were the constant swears and insults spewing at the Spy. The red member had pushed him back out of his kneeling position and against the wall.

"What a filthy mouth you have, jarman." Sniper wanted to move, to shove the man away, to slaughter him. The further the Spy dug in to rip more muscle and skin however, the more blood dripped out, and the weaker he felt. The figure was quietly smiling. Not a crazed one, but a casual smug smile, as if he had won a game of cards. He ripped through the vest and shirt to continue his art, and the sniper's eyes fell to his arm. The muscle was ripped up, lines scaling the whole length. If felt as if it was on fire, burning endlessly with pain.

Twitching his arm sent even more incredible agony though it, and his breath caught in his throat. The pain was spreading, the fire, he could say. It was going up his shoulder and across his chest, careful to avoid the main arteries, for now. His eyes fluttered closed, and he could see the lines in his mind's eye- imagine them. He wasn't much of a creative man, but the pain, it was so /vivid./ The lines were moving up, now, to a vertical. It spread to his neck, but the cuts weren't as deep, recognizing that it was more vulnerable. The pain still screamed in his mind, though. His throat tightened.

"Mon chere, no need to look so /stressed./ the fin part comes next…" The voice purred into his ear. The Sniper flinched away. Most of his shirt was drenched with blood, and he was starting to feel cold.

"Spawn is now off!" The intercom blared outside. How had that only been five minutes? He wondered. It had felt like forever…

"It's about time, wi?" The voice purred again, an edge of excitement within the French accent. The knife ran up his neck, following the curve under his chin. It fell slightly out of rhythm underneath as the sniper swallowed nervously, but nevertheless stayed true. It was soon going up his chin, over his lip, past his nose, all the way up to his aviators. It stopped there, and the spy bided his time, tracking where the aviators covered, around his cheeks and the side of his head, and up onto his forehead. From there the cuts began to get deeper, and he whimpered a bit as horizontal lines began to fill the left side of his face.

Finally the knife fell away from the sniper's face, and he opened his eyes wearily. The Spy was looking him over with satisfaction, like an artist would observe a job well done. He leaned forward. "Hm… Still missing something, no?" He gazed into the gradient of the aviators, and plucked them from the Australian's face. "Time for the finale." They locked eyes for a second, even with his vision and mind going fuzzy with blood loss; he could sight the spy's grin. "Now, mon ami, which eye do you snipe with? No need to answer, I already know." As the Spy began to close in, Sniper visibly flinched, lifting his good hand to attempt to defend himself. However, he could not seem to stop it from shaking, and the Spy easily moved it away.

"N-no… Please…" He begged as the spy flashed him a smile. "Don't…"

"My apologies mon ami." A bloody liar, and he knew it. The Spy wanted this, to hear him beg, to see him suffer. He plucked the aviators off Sniper's face, revealing his eyes, between blue and green, like his Red counterpart's. "Hold still, now." Spy purred, holding the left eye open with his gloved index finger and thumb.

He screamed, slightly craning his neck back. It was not voluntary; the pain instantly triggered it. The sharp edge pierced through his cornea, and the fluids seeped out onto his face. He continued to howl as the knife explored into his scull, or so it felt, carving. He began to fall unconscious. "Not much pain tolerance built up, hm? You can't go yet, mon chere." He was now trying to carefully scrape the remains of the eye out of the Sniper's skull, despite the blood and mystery liquids pouring out. The other eye was also releasing liquid, but to the Spy's amusement, it was made of tears. The Sniper let out a strangled sob, but managed to choke the rest down, biting his lip as the Spy finished up. His vision was blurred, and the now empty socket burned with the vigor of ten times the rest of the wounds. A few more sobs escaped and blood poured out. He definitely felt light-headed, yet the pain blocked out almost everything else.

"Mon ami, it's done," The voice cooed, then urging him to open his eyes. He did so, the feeling of clammy sweat and stick blood coming along with it, including the increased burning as the now empty socket met open air. The Spy was holding his eye in his hand. He could tell despite the blurry vision. It was mangled, and if the Spy had just brought it to him without knowing anything else of it, he wouldn't have guessed it was an eye. They spy's gloves were saturated red with his blood. "Now, it's finally the end for you. I have grown bored with this game." The butterfly knife was a glimmering smear in his vision. The sniper's eye fluttered shut. "Bonjour et au revoir, vous-"

"Yo! Spook!" A Bostonian accent cut off the Frenchman as the clank of shoes on ladder came into ears detection. The spy moved away a bit, shifting his position. The floor creaked as he stood, and the sniper's choked a bit as he tried to suppress another sob and failed. "Woah, holy shit, man! What the fuck did you do?"

"It seems I have gotten blood on my suit…" The Spy muttered a bit, more to himself than anything else. Sniper heard the sudden click of a revolver, and a gunshot echoed through the post. Someone cried out, but the voice was deeper, not that of the Scout at all. If his mind would have been working on full blood supply, the events would have clicked, but instead he was starting to shiver, mind going foggy. He was pretty sure he would pass out soon. "Unfortunately for you, our team's Scout has never called me Spook, specifically because I told him not to." He growled.

* * *

><p>A bullet had planted itself in the imposture's thigh, causing him to stumble and lower to one knee. The Blu spy stared at his counterpart with livid, piercing eyes. He noted somewhere not to refer to the Red spy as 'Spook,' then directed his thoughts to other matters. He didn't get a good look at the sniper, given that the Spy was standing directly in front of his view, but he and the Scout had both heard the pained yelling. For now he had to keep the Red Spy busy.<p>

"Throw your weapons out," The Red Spy directed, nodding to outside the post's door. In response his counterpart tossed his gun, knife, disguise kit, and sapper off the edge, wincing as he heard the clacks on the ladder and packed earth. "The watch, too." He scowled, but undid the watch and threw it over his shoulder. The Red Spy gave an approving nod, a smug smile on his face. "My lucky day, I get to kill two birds with a single stone." He took a step towards the immobile spy, but was abruptly stopped.

"Hey, chucklenuts, not so fast." The Spy looked over his shoulder to see the Blu Scout hanging on the windowsill, his Force-O-Nature in hand, pointed at the Red Spy. "Weapon down, fuckface." He spat. The Blu Spy pulled an extra revolver from his suit, and cocked it at the Red Spy.

The Red Spy looked from the Spy to the Scout, scowled, and dropped the revolver, which the Blu Spy quickly collected, standing up carefully.

The Red Spy and Blu Scout locked eyes for a split second. "Get outta' here, rat." The Blu Spy move out of the doorway, and his counterpart quickly made his leave, the scowl never leaving his face.

Scout jumped in the window, and immediately jumped back into the wall at the sight of the Sniper. "Holy shit!" His voice cracked into a high pitch.

The Spy's eyebrows rose in shock for a second, looking over the countless cuts and wounds, and then the eye, which was seeping blood. He truly hoped that it wasn't… uhg, he didn't even want to imagine it. "Mon Dieu…" He kneeled at the Sniper's side, clear concern on his face as he looked more loosely at the eye. The Sniper's breath was shaky, and his skin was incredibly pale and clammy. He was out cold. Spy hesitantly opened the lid of the eye, and Sniper jerked away, his breath hitching. Spy's hand came away with blood. The eye was gone. He muttered a curse under his breath.

Scout had since recovered, taking the other side of the man. He touched the Australian's arm, finding it alarmingly cold. Scout pressed himself against the man, trying to keep his body temperature up. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," He moaned out of slight panic. "Respawn's not on, and look how fucked up he is!" His blue eyes were wide.

Spy slung Sniper's arm over his own shoulder, holding the other man around the waist. "Stand up, Scout." The boy did so, and the Spy then took over, moving into position to carry the bushman bridal style. "We need to hurry- Go get ze medic, I'll go as quickly as I can to meet you two." Scout nodded, his eyes still holding a glint of fear as he slid down the ladder rather than using it properly.

Spy had difficulty carrying the Sniper with the new wound planted in his leg, and every few steps would stumble as it gave away. He growled under his breath. The jarman's breathing was even shallower than before, and sounded wispy. Spy turned around cautiously, carefully planting his good leg onto the first bar, and lowering himself down, simultaneously carrying the man on his forearms and using his hands to stay on the ladder. The process was brooding with every step on the bad leg, and his arms were burning under the weight of his comrade- his figure was not made for lifting things, but to be limber and lightweight. The sudden change wasn't working out well.

He made it down the metal contraption after about two minutes of cursing how high up they were, being sure to press himself close to the Sniper's body. Despite the warm day, he was looking body temperature quickly. Spy continued to limp towards the base, paying careful attention to the Sniper's breathing. "Almost zhere, mon ami."

On the horizon, two Blu figures sprinted towards them, one holding several med kits, the other a gun-like contraption.


	2. Chapter 2

With each step the thundering in the Scout's ears grew louder and louder. He had made it clear to the doctor that the situation was serious. The Medic was beside him keeping up best he could, and had collected his equipment more quickly than the Scout could have thought, but to his disapproval the Medic loaded a couple med packs on him, which succeeded in weighing him down and holding him back. As he ran his mind became more lost in thought. He hadn't ever seen anyone marred that badly before. Sure, in Boston there were stories about people getting their brains out on the news. He had become accustomed to seeing brains blown out, blowing brains out, and getting his own brains blown out over his time on BLU though. The deaths of both sides were almost always cleanly cut so to speak, as they were professionals. Neither side bothered with taking time out of their battle to mess each other up. They killed, they left, and they repeated until they died. Then you just respawn and start over. Unlike today. It was a shaky thought to leave such a certain pattern.

The RED Spy would be most likely to break the pattern though, now that he thought about it. He was always shifty and suspicious compared to the other REDs, but that's a given. He's a Spy after all, and that's how he had viewed even the BLU Spy before actually getting to know his team. The RED Spy had something off though, the Scout thought even more intensely after the recent events. He took things more personally, including the aftermath- revenge. This extent of this revenge was much further than anything else he'd ever pulled of before, and so drastically further that the Scout's mind felt heavy with questioning. What had set the Spy off? The RED Rat couldn't be that mirthful. Or could he? Would the Sniper make it? He looked really bad.

The Medic suddenly snapped the Scout out of his thoughts, the man panting in the heat and seemingly endless jogging. "I see them ahead," he said, "how much blood has he lost?" With a slight pause and huff of breathing the doctor added, "the Spy looks like he's limping. I expect a reclamation of vhat happened here after Herr Sniper is situated."

He nodded to the later subject, then replying. "I dunno doc," the Scout said, realizing his voice was shaky. "I didn't want to look." He allowed his honesty to break his pride. He shouldn't have been as scared to look as he had been, having the experience of being on the battlefield almost every day. But it's different when all the sudden you have no second chances, or when the person with no second chances is a friend.

"Sehr gut…" The Medic muttered in between gasping. They both picked up the pace, approaching steadily. The Spy was indeed limping and stumbling a bit, but he had gotten a decent distance away from the towering post. The final distance between the two groups was closed, and both stopped, thoroughly exhausted. There wasn't time for rest.

The Medic accessed the situation like lightning, his hawk eyes observing every wound expertly and quickly. "Set him down." He ordered, and the Spy did so carefully, grunting with the subtraction of the Sniper's body weight. The Medic kneeled, motioning for the Scout to do the same. Scout dropped the med kits next to the Medic, now taking in the reality of the grotesque wounds. That was a /lot/ of cuts.

The Medic withdrew bandages from one of them, for later. He listened to the breathing of the Sniper momentarily, and went into motion. The smaller cuts would be able to heal under the Medigun. The long deeper ones however would need stitching to stay closed. The Spy grimaced as the Medic withdrew a needle and thread.

"Is there anything we can help with, /médecin/?" The Medic looked up at the Spy for a moment, and then resumed calculating where his entry point into the skin should be.

"Ja, try and clean zhe vounds as well as you can manage, zhere should be some betadine in zhe medical kits. Ve should not attempt to use zhe Medigun on vounds that could become infected."

As the needle went in the Scout looked away, busy himself with passing a package to the Spy, and opening one himself. There was a small bottle of betadine in there. He considered at least trying to help, but as he looked to the countless wounds and seeping blood he couldn't stomach it. He apologized silently and also handed it off to the Spook. The Spy nodded slightly and went to work with a cloth also common to the supplies, dabbing along the gashes.

The Medic was efficiently patching up the Sniper's cuts, taking the importance of speed with it very seriously. As he went, he explained. "The Medigun is quite a marvel of technology, but it cannot reproduce many blood cells," he muttered, "I can redo the stitching later if I need to, but for zhe moment it is not priority."

The Spy discarded the first cloth, which was now soaked in blood. "Zhere is a detail I should tell you, doctor," the Medic glanced at him attentively as the Spy retrieved another cloth. " 'is… eye is gouged out."

This caught the Medic's full attention, stopping mid-stitch. He carefully set the needle down, moving towards the Sniper's face. He cautiously pulled open his eyelid, blood seeping out the side. The Sniper's breath suddenly jerked, and he thrashed out of the Medic's grip, still out cold; by instinct he tried to escape the returning pain. The German released, recovering the needle before the Sniper could get it stuck in his skin. "Dies wird schwierig." He grunted, finishing up the gash along the sniper's chest. He pulled up the Medigun, directing it towards the wounds that were clean and stitched. The small cuts sealed up almost perfectly, the larger forming scarlet scab tissue.

"Wie schwierig?" The Spy responded, not skipping a beat as he switched languages. The Scout was lost within the gibberish words, just watching.

"Ganz." The chest was patched up well enough, and the Medic decided to continue onto the arm. It seemed the RED Spy cut deeper there. Perhaps he pondered if he would get away with killing the Sniper, as he had cut many of the ligaments in the forearm. The Medic recalled them being responsible for finger movement - which corresponded with the Sniper's ability to pull gun triggers. He would have to do this later in a more adequate environment, he decided, instead picking up the bandages and wrapping them carefully on the wounds.

The gashes on the neck and face were not deep, as it would be easy to go too far when inflicting wounds there. It was taken care of with some cleansing and work with the Medigun, but still left very faint scars.

"Und finally zhe eye." The Medic wiped blood from his gloves. "One of you must keep him down and one must hold his eye open. I will work the Medigun, even though it will not close the wound completely. The skin will still be incredibly raw and vulnerable."

The Scout met the Spy's eyes pleadingly. "I don't want to hold it open," he said bluntly. The Spy's jaw tensed a bit.

"Very well." He looked to the doctor, who nodded, and he pulled the socket open. The Sniper gasped, jerking instantly, and the Scout threw himself over the lanky Australian, restraining him. Medic pulled the lever on the Medigun, turning it on. The blue rays seeped into the wound, and the struggling began to subside as the machine did its job. The Sniper's breathing became more relaxed, although equally shaky. The Scout withdrew from his position, and after waiting a bit longer the Medic shut it off, the Spy also removing his now bloody gloves from the tender wound.

"We must hurry," the Medic interjected the silence, "this does not change the drastic means of this situation. He has lost a lot of color."

"Meaning blood." The Scout clarified more for himself than anything.

"Ja, like I said, the Medigun has trouble replacing that." The Medic picked up the Sniper, slipping off the Medigun. "If you don't mind Herr Spy, I vill attend to your injuries vhen this is dealt vith." Gaining a nod of approval, the German looked to the Scout. "Run ahead. Get zhe Engineer, he vill be able to help with zhe Sniper's arm."

"What's wrong with his arm that the medigun can't fix?" The Scout questioned, still refusing to look directly at the wounds.

"Some of zhe muscles are shredded, I believe before Engineer decided to amputate his arm he had researched the different muscles and ligaments to see if there was a way to preserve it. He should know about zhis. Also he knows where mein equipment is, as he repairs most of it."

The Scout nodded, his mind seemingly clearer, jumping up and bolting towards the base. The Medic stood much more easily with the sniper in his arms than the Spy had before. The other man followed suit, moving much more easily now.

* * *

><p>Released from the burden of the medical packs, the Scout ran full stride and bustling with energy. There was pounding in his head that meshed in with the rhythm of his feet hitting the ground, quick and with a growing tempo. He couldn't dilly dally with this, which was a good representation of what he did on a daily basis. Despite his fast feet he preferred slow.<p>

His muscles tensed. No time for slow now.

* * *

><p>OOC: Sorry for the long update time. I realize this chapter doesn't really make up for it. :p<p>

Meanings:

Sehr gut. = Very Well. (German)

médecin = Doctor (French)

Dies wird schwierig. = This will be difficult. (German)

Wie schwierig? = How difficult? (German)

Ganz. = Quite. (German)


	3. Chapter 3

The first waking moments were like an electric flow. He felt as if he had just awakened from a hundred year slumber, and then as suddenly as the shock had come on it shut off. A pounding headache hit him almost immediately. The sniper attempted opening his eyes, only to be met with harsh stinging and disoriented vision. He promptly shut them again with a hiss. Just breathed for a few minutes, he took in his situation. It smelled like antibacterial soap or something. His memory was kind of fuzzy, and his head hurt like hell. What happened? His head was not the only thing hurting he knew, his left arm and definitely his left eye was inflicting stinging pain on him too. He took a deep breath and struggled to a sitting position, which was much harder than it should have been. There was a brief yet slight pull on his arm. Having his eyes closed was disorienting, and his right arm, which he was using mainly as support, was quickly getting tired.

He pushed himself onto his knees, finding a stable enough position to bring his hand up to his eye, covering the eyelid and keeping it closed despite the pain in both his eye and arm. His good eye opened, squinting ahead at the bright room. At first his vision was blurry, but he already knew where he was, confirming his assumption from the soap smell. He was in the infirmary. His eye closed again, drowsiness beginning to claim him. He swayed a bit, and lowered himself back down into the bed.

* * *

><p>The next time the Sniper awoke, he nearly jumped out of his skin after realizing he was surrounded by blurry blue silhouettes. He attempted sitting up, but ended up only being able to lean on the bedframe. The colors encircling him began to sharpen, despite having to squint to keep the damaged eye closed.<p>

"No need to jump, pardner." A western accent chuckled to his left.

"Croikey..." He muttered in response, rubbing his temples.

"Howdaya feel?" The Scout's voice. It really just made his head hurt more.

"Like Oi was run over with a bus," the Bushman replied sullenly. He brought his arm in front of his vision, finding copious scars twining up his forearm. No wonder it was hurting.

"Any more anesthetic and you vould have become delirious." An irritated German accent echoed from his left, the doctor stride into his view, leering a bit at the figures crowding his stations. "I told them you vere not fit to be seen. Of course, nobody listened."

"Mphrph dfp wphp!" Pyro piped up, also to his left. This was disorienting.

"Yeah, Doc. We were just worried." The Engineer chimed in.

He sighed, a bit irritated. "Well zhen, say what you would like to and leave. He needs to rest."

The Engineer shrugged. "Well… I'm real sorry about what happened, Slim," He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away sheepishly. "Frankly I can't believe that damned Spy had the guts to pull somethin' like that."

_Spy? _He suddenly tensed on the inside, almost forgetting to breath. He couldn't remember any recent events. Everything seemed fogged, even inside his thoughts. Why would the Spy-

"Yeah," The Scout chimed in, almost snarling. "Next time that fucking RED shows his face it's getting' caved in by yours truly." The pyro nodded furiously, making it obvious that they agreed with the Scout's ideal.

_Oh. The RED Spy. _ He exhaled slightly, still a bit shaken from the idea that his own teammate would have turned on him.

"The whole team's pretty worried, Snipes." Scout added. "Engineer made sure the Soldier wouldn't come near here for a while."

"Yeah, Solly can get a bit loud. Didn't think that would be good for ya. He's real worked up about this Spy business."

The Sniped nodded slightly, grateful. Good. His head was already hurting with the array of mildly quiet voices.

The Medic had been gazing at them impatiently, and the Scout finally noticed. "Uh… I think I'll hit the road Snipes, get well soon." He darted uncomfortably out of the room. Engineer and Pyro, exchanging similar relations with the Sniper, followed the Scout's train of thought. The Sniper slumped down slightly, the adrenaline of confusion draining away.

"Herr Sniper," He tiredly directed his damaged vision to the Medic, who had walked across the room and was now rummaging through a medicine drawer. "I vas light on zhe anesthetic because you have a decision to make, and I reasoned you vould vant to be… More sober to make it."

He waltzed over with the usual refined steps that suited his personality perfectly. "As you know, you have only one eye, and as you probably can tell, zhe vound has not yet healed completely, which is partly intentional. There are two relatively safe options to deal with your eye - Sewing it up or getting a glass replacement. You can change your mind later if you vish, but getting the stitches and then switching may damage the skin around the eye."

"… Then there's no way to fix it." The sniper's voice dipped into a soft tone.

The doctor sighed slightly. "At zhe moment, no." There was a sickening silence.

"… Croikey, It wouldn't feel right having a glass eyeball in my head." He murmured. "Better to just close it up."

The German nodded. "Very vell. I will leave you alone for now to rest."

* * *

><p>Somewhere, many halls away from the infirmary, the mess hall was bustling with activity. The Soldier was the main attraction of the small gathering. Despite the Engineer's ordering for quiet, an opportunity for well-founded shouting and cursing was hard to pass up.<p>

"THAT MAGGOT THINKS HE CAN JUST STROLL IN AND GET AWAY WITH MURDER?"

The Spy found the Soldier's ranting slightly ironic. They took countless lives every day- In a sense they were all murderers. Well-paid, (mostly) sane murderers. Not that the RED Spy's attempt on the Sniper's life was acceptable. Oh, no. It was _incredibly_ far from just. So beyond far that he could not put it into words; so far that it made his body itch to feel his own knife in his opposite's heart.

The Demoman had become sober since the incident, for once in a long while deciding it was in his best interest to stay clearheaded. That however didn't mean he was immune to coming hangovers. "Ay…. Quiet down o'er there." He was currently collapsed on top of the table the Spy was sitting at, although he paid no mind to the Scottish man.

"NEGATIVE! This is no laughing matter!" He hissed between clenched teeth. "This is TRECHERY to the contract and to the rules of the contract. This can't go unpunished!"

"I agree, but zhat does not mean we have any authority to make a move. If zhe Administrator chooses to take action, zhe other Spy will be dealt with. If not…" The Spy trailed off into silence, looking away.

"If not, WHAT, Croissant?" The patriot sneered in response, pacing angrily and occasionally whacking his equalizer into the nearest wall.

"The Engineer is not going to like zhat." The Spy sighed, holding his head in his hands, obviously tired and irritated.

Completely ignoring his insertion, the Soldier yelled again. "THEY'RE GOING TO PICK US OFF, ONE BY ONE! THEY'LL RIP US TO SHREDS IF WE DON'T TAKE ACTION!" A perfectly placed equalizer hit broke through the wall's covering, and the Soldier left it there, whipping on the Spy with anger. His voice dripped poison. "This is WAR, sweetheart. They stepped across the line, and if that rule is not enforced, I will rip them to shreds until the damned world ENDS if they try to pull ANYTHING else."

With that the Soldier exit, still full of rage and spite. The Spy wished he could have the mindset of the Soldier sometimes. One of endless bravery and naïve justification for everything- A world of black and white. But yet it was not who he was. Making a preemptive move could cost them their jobs, or in extreme, their lives. The RED Spy could be corresponding on this with the rest of his team, or maybe he merely went for the Sniper out of personal spite.

Either way, it wasn't his place to choose how the battle would play out. It was the Administrator's.

Footsteps echoed from somewhere in the hallway. The Demoman suddenly laughed, causing the Spy to jump. He had forgotten the one-eyed alcoholic was there. "Solly's in fer it, ain't he?"

The Spy stared at the Engineer, Pyro, and Scout as they entered, then glanced to the wall. "...Oui."

The Engineer followed the Spy's gaze, jumping with a yelp at the torn up wall.

"I can explain," The Spy mused. "It was the Soldier's fault."

* * *

><p>Wow guys, long time no see. Sorry for not updating; I really lost motivation with this, but I think writing this story is worth it. I hope my precious readers didn't die in the many days it took me to write this tiny chapter :p<p> 


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